I Wish I Was in Edinburgh

It´s fiesta time in Alcalá this week.  In this, our World Heritage Site, there´s many, many games for kids, some sports, some charity events and even some decent music, including the famous group, La Oreja de Van Gogh and pop star-turned-crooner, Sergio Dalma in free concerts on the spare, rocky  ground behind the Archbishop´s Palace.  There´s even some street theatre and some local classical music groups.

Sergio Dalma

As for the rest?

  • Pinchada de globos (balloon-bursting)
  • Gigantes y cabezudos (big-headed, giant carnival figures)
  • Ofrenda floral al Cristo de las Peñas (floral offering to the Christ of the Clubs)
  • XXV Elección de Míster Damo (male beauty contest)
  • Presentación pública de las damas de honor de las ferias (female beauty contest)
  • Chocolate con bizcochos (hot chocolate and cake)
  • Gran Torneo Multitudinario de Mus (card-playing tournament)
  • Baile del vermouth y sangría para todos (vermouth, sangría and dancing for everybody)
  • Comilona de sandías (watermelon-eating contest)
  • Comilona de flanes (flan-eating contest)
  • Puzzle gigante (giant jigsaw puzzle)
  • Actuación de la Tuna de Alcalá de Henares (university roving band)
  • Charangas (roving brass bands)
  • Corridas de toros (bullfights)
  • Juego de dardos (darts)
  • V Certamen Internacional de lanzamiento de huesos de aceituna (olive pit-throwing competition)
  • Carrera de Triciclos (tricycle race)
  • Competición de Air Guitar (air guitar contest)
  • Concurso de Pulsos (arm-wrestling contest)

There´s also a few strange ones:

  • Con un par de huevos (with a pair of balls)
  • El arrastrafurgoneta (the van-puller)
  • La alpargata voladora (the flying sandal)
  • Concurso de sillas (chair competition)
Bullfighting in Alcalá

Pretty poster for poxy blood-sport

 

Perhaps aptly there´s also a play, “La Cena de los Idiotas,” or Dinner of Fools.

No wonder Alcalá lost the  bid to be the European City of Culture in 2016 to San Sebastián.

 

Edinburgh Festival

Of Wasps and Women

Angry wasp

This summer I´m having a problem with wasps.  No, not the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant variety, like Todd Akin, but the insect variety.

(Come to think of it, the Republican´s  ”knowledge” of the membranes and crevices of the female anatomy might actually render him part of the venomous hymenoptera insect class and as such, eminently exterminable).

Anyway, talking of crevices,  some roof-height ones on our terraza have been colonised by these black-and-yellow-striped waspie beasties.

At first I believed in live and let live.  But after their numbers climbed to a few dozen and I was stung sitting indoors on my own sofa, I decided to fight fire with fire, or more accurately, poison with poison.  (That sting stung! I felt a painful whiplash of venom shoot through my arm and down my side. I´m not allergic to wasp stings, but I don´t know if Malassie is.  So I decided to act).

My first actions were completely useless.  I puffed a bit of fly spray around but the wasps just  dive-bombed away, blowing loud raspberries at me as I choked on the vile chemicals.  I threw a bit of ant powder around but ended up walking it through the house myself.  More mopping.

Spanish hubby, referring to las avispas as  ”ellas”, which I thought was a bit sexist, said the cracks  had to be filled in at night when they were all in sleeping in their wee beds. Well, I wouldn´t have it.  Being “emparedadas” or shut up behind walls, is positively medieval and the miniscule skeletons would remain in our family cupboard, as it were, for millenia.

Meanwhile we can´t sit outside.  Hubby has become the night time laughing stock of the barrio by setting up his laptop at the dingy end of the terraza on an old, butcher-block table I keep fusty plants on before consigning them to the bin.

No wasps there – obviously they have their cool value. Unlike Hubby.

So, finally, and since I´m the family decision-maker in all things, I say to Hubby, “Do It”.   And he does.  While the waspies are sleeping (or on Waspbook and Buzzer or getting a degree on La Waspidad a Distancia) he fills in the front and back entrances to their chalet with plaster.

¡Avispadas!

That night I was in mourning.  Hemingway was here, death was all around and the bells tolled for all of us. Next morning, the place was all abuzz again. The bastards had tunnelled out and were holding a victory Buzz-In around our heads!

So, more plaster …. and more tunnelling! I decided to get some summer exercise in with some step aerobics on a small ladder and a bit of zumba with some Hipercor junk mail.  Up, two, three, ¡zumba!, down (quickly) and jump inside from the Gathering Swarm.

I got quite good at this, not quite Seven in One Blow – more like One in Seventy Blows – but I gifted free eolic energy to the barrio during some very hot weather.

Unfortunately, I broke my favourite planter, battered my boj to bits and almost knocked Malassie unconscious.  My pal Ana suggested I use smoke.  (Just what I need, to burn the house down).

No.  It was time for the big guns.  Silicone.  I can´t get it off my shower-base so wee beasties can´t tunnel their way through it.  And yes, it worked.

For about five minutes. The little bitches set up a petition on Avispaaz and a bunch of wingdignadas showed up, okupied another crack and the whole thing started again.

No wonder Spaniards use the word avispado to mean smart!

Meanwhile, I need bigger guns.

Maybe I should join the Republican Party.

Rajoy´s Little Girl?

 

As a blogger, I have a policy of not blogging about blogging itself.  Since SpainStruck´s my blog, however, I´ve decided to suspend that policy for one post.

The Facebook group, Writers and Bloggers About Spaina talented and bloody-minded bunch that brighten up my day, is essentially made up of entrepreneurs.

I´ve always been prejudiced against entrepreneurs. The reasons for this are complex and long-winded and go back to the 12th Century so I´m not going to expand on this now.  The WABAS group have unwittingly and successfully challenged that prejudice of mine …. though I was already on such a learning curve myself, since living in Spain has forced me to re-examine the  outmoded and ineffectual patterns of thought that used to dominate my intellectual inheritance.

I want to illustrate what I mean via an anecdote.

Picture it.  A working-class barrio in Alcalá de Henares. A chat outside the butcher´s with an admired neighbour.  He´s about my age, funny, smart and cheeky.  He always takes the piss out of me and is as much of a natural rebel as myself.  We get on.

Yet what he had to say shocked me.  After the initial, and by now, obligatory exchange of improperios concerning the economic crisis, he mentioned that he´d been taking his daughter around to echar currículos (leave copies of her CV) in every kind of organization and business in the hope of finding her a job.

I admired his dedication to his daughter …. till I realised what he meant.  He´s not driving her places and waiting in the car.  She´s got her own car.  No, my neighbour is leading his 25 year-old daughter into the above-mentioned places and haranguing employees and funcionarios (admin staff) into letting her leave her CV.

“She´s so shy,” he said.  ”She´s really capable, she´s got great marks, but she can´t push herself forward.”

If I was an employer, would I give her a job?

No way.

Silly girlIn what world is it acceptable for a 25 year old girl to trail mutely behind her Daddy on a job search?   It´s plainly ridiculous, yet this father chatted on as though this approach to his daughter´s future was perfectly normal.  Couldn´t he see that any employer would wonder what initiative, what gumption, that girl  could possibly have herself?

 

Apparently not.

I realised I´d found the famous niña de Rajoy.  During his electoral campaign the inept politician and now President of the Spanish Government, Mariano Rajoy, employed the  slushy reclamo of a little girl on which to project a future in which all young people would be successful in conservative Spain.

This  ”feminization” of the bright, Spanish future was a “right on” electioneering trick in the fight to win votes,  an attempt to soften the macho ibérico image of the Partido Popular.  It didn´t work – but it did subtly associate the female with the sentimental, equating it with vulnerability.

My neighbour appears to have fallen into a vat of slushy, paternalistic protectionism and is rendering his daughter powerless.

The Facebook  WASAB group often argue for an entrepreneurial education for children.  Having listened to my neighbour and seen too, how initiative and originality are often marked down in the Spanish educational system, I see that the dependence of labour on the State is often counterproductive, especially when that State is veering further and further towards fascism and engineered unemployment.

So, one of the alternatives is clearly entrepreneurship.  By this I mean start up something yourself,  use the new technologies,  be creative, sell your knowledge, build something, create a space of economic freedom where there was none.

It´s not perfect.  It´s still part and parcel of a rabid capitalist system that´s gone nuts.  But it´s one of the ways in which Spanish youth can become empowered.

I do see that given her circumstances and education my niña de Rajoy neighbour isn´t really to blame for her passivity but I wonder what will happen if she doesn´t get a job – which is more than likely.

Will she seek alternative approaches to employment and stand up on her own two feet as a grown woman?

I hope so.

Lidia Valentín Pérez - not a little girl!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Woman´s Right to Lose

I´m going to start with a common phrase in Spanish, sin pelos en la lengua, without hairs on my tongue.  It means to speak clearly, directly and sincerely – whether it bothers people or not.  If you did have hairs on your tongue, it would be like trying to explain yourself with a fat quarter of harris tweed in your mouth.

Ineffectual.

I´m going to try to be …  er … effectual.

Gallardón (literally “big, gallant, splendid guy”).

The Spanish Minister of (Divine) Justice, Alberto Ruiz-Gallardón, has decided that fetal malformación should not be a cause for abortion.

Bolstered by a landslide victory last November and a majority in the Parliament (that bar room brawling floor on which Spaniards´ civil and human rights are currently being jodidos, ie. screwed) Gallardón intends to reform the 2010 Abortion Act passed by Zapatero´s Socialist government.

This Act was in keeping with fundamental sexual and reproductive health rights established by the World Health Organization and was based on a time-limit model favoured by most European countries. It made the provision that,  should severe fetal anomalies be detected, there would be no time limit for abortion.

Now, however, Gallardón deems it expedient that Spanish women bring greater numbers of severely disabled children into the earthly paradise that is Spain.

Bosch´s Hell

And we can count ourselves lucky that he isn´t up for totally banning abortion, as it has been for the greater part of modern Spanish history.

Hangers-On

Of course, Gallardón has his supporters.  In a Telecinco debate recently, two gym-toned, siliconed, cabin-tanned, blonde-dyed, designer-clad PP groupies defended the Minister´s proposal before an opponent of the Act called Maribel García.

Despite legislation permitting a termination up to 22 weeks, Maribel was not offered the option of a termination despite many markers during pregnancy indicating that her child would be born so severely disabled he would be incompatible con la vida.

Had she had that option, she would have taken it. Her son Alejandro, now ten, has a disability of 97%.  He has to be spoon-fed, is wheel-chair bound, lacks genitals, cannot speak or walk, requires 24/7 care, sleeps with an oxygen mask, suffers physical and emotional pain and has been in hospital hundreds of times.

Maribel – with her real knowledge of such extreme disability – expressed extreme dismay that termination will soon become an option denied all women in her situation.  She  threw cold water on the claims of the two vociferous peperas (who obviously spend their time at the beauty salon or de plató en plató, from one TV studio to another) and their much-touted “respect for life.”

In the current economic and political climate:

  • the public health service is being dismantled
  • the Ley de Dependencia (care for dependents) is being slashed
  • wheelchair users and other disabled people are surrounded by public, physical barriers to autonomy
  • the Civil War Memoria Histórica movement has been moved off the political agenda
  • hundreds of people are struggling to have Church workers put on trial for stealing babies for adoption

Respect for life?  Is this meant to be some kind of sick joke?

A Woman´s Right to Vamoose

Yet again, Spanish women´s hard-won rights are under attack since women are usually the first casualties of a shrinking labour market.  The common strategy of conservative regimes is to force them back into the home – taking care of the very dependents created by adverse social policies.  Gallardón´s proposal is an expression of this aim.  He has no intrinsic interest in the fate of the disabled.

Fortunately, Gallardón´s despropósito (mad proposal) has been contested by womens´ organizations such as COMPI – (Coordinadora de Organizaciones de Mujeres Para La Participación Y La Igualdad) and by medical experts.

Javier Esparza is an eminent practitioner in the field of  Infant Neuroscience.  In an Open Letter, this neurosurgeon has laid out the terrible consequences of such a reform, with particular emphasis on the suffering of children with congenital nervous system malformations like hydrocephalus and spina bifida.

Esparza´s description of the suffering of severely disabled children is echoed by Gloria Muñoz, mother of Alba who only lived for seven months, in physical pain, from the rare condition, Spinal Muscular Atrophy.  She states that if she was pregnant with such a severely disabled child again she would go abroad to have an abortion.

Political Hypocrisy

And this is really the issue.  The Minister knows that Spanish women who do not want to continue with such pregnancies – and can afford to fly to London –  will be forced into the so-called “abortion tourism” that was rife during the dictatorship.

Women who support Gallardón out of party political, rather than humanitarian, motives are particularly hypocritical.  How many of them will be sacrificing their comfortable lives to the care of a dependent?  No, they´ll be off to London for a termination and a designer handbag.

Keep your theology off my biology

Gallardón´s proposal is not about morality or spirituality but hierarchy, power and control.  It´s not about babies and cute, cuddly toys but enslaving women and men to the care of  individuals to the extent that the struggle for the material requirements of life annihilates their energy for culture, thought or opinion – especially political opinion.

It is disempowerment, especially since the Spaniards now living with such difficult conditions receive little or no support from a government which purportedly defends their rights.

 

Read a reply to the neurosurgeon´s Open Letter from Marta Mezquita, a lawyer with a complex disability.  She raises many points with Esparza, yet still defends the right of women to choose a termination.

A crown of thorns for your kids to colour in.

Suffer the little children to colour me

What I really hate about big, strong Gallardón´s idea is that it is the political use of a tortured and twisted Christianity based on the veneration of suffering and the acceptance of a victim status.

What is truly appalling is that he is never going to find himself in the situation he seeks to impose on others.  Far from brave, it´s cowardice in the extreme, especially since it´s aimed at a collective – women-  he regards as weak.

It´s the Dark Ages,  a macho ibérico, self-serving and paternalistic strategy aimed at aborting the gains of the Spanish transition to democracy.

And it leaves us all politically disabled.